The B stands for Barriers

It seems a little bit appropriate that I begin my New Year's Resolution to start blogging more regularly about my life as a late bloomer begins on January 8.  I mean, to start it on January 1 would be on time, and as most of my friends will tell you, I'm not on time to anything, including my own life, so why start now with my New Year's Resolutions?


I should probably point out that I'm somewhat of a different person than when I started this blog.  You wouldn't know that because (a) my readers actually don't exist. I have no followers, I post so infrequently that people forget I have this, and I don't ever mention or push it simply because I fear the reaction if my family ran across it and read it word for word.  They love me and all, but some entries may push their limits (good thing they don't know that I keep journals). And (b) I haven't written in this for two years. TWO YEARS-- where does the time go?  Well, I'll tell you.  It goes in to Netflix, the Real Housewives of [every city there is a RH franchise], the gym, work, travel for work, travel for fun, wine (now), vodka, whiskey (soon), Grndr window shopping, Scruff window shopping, telling my cat how much I love her, and occasionally, sleep.  That's where all the time goes.  It's sad really, a talent wasted... like when you see an incredibly hot accountant.


There's no need to get into how I'm different than my previous entries.  That will become evident as I blog more -- and, yes, my commitment to you, my nonexistent reader, is that I will write more about my life and adventures for your nonexistent eyes to read, your nonexistent mind to ponder and your nonexistent heart to absorb.  As old friends do, we'll just pick up in the now and move forward.


And, moving forward is exactly what I'm doing.  A week from today, there should be a For Sale sign out in my yard. That's when the gun will finally fire, and the race will be on. The finish line: New York City.


Now, you probably had one of two reactions to that.  You either thought, "Oh, that's great!  I'm so excited for you.  I know you've wanted that for so long." OR you rolled your eyes.  I don't blame you for either, but I thank you for one.


Truth be known, I've already pre-written an entry on people's reactions to my move. While I haven't made an official statement (because, you know, I'm basically a Kardashian and my people are clamoring), I've told enough people to see a pattern.  Tune in next week. I'm saving that for a future entry.  I can't use all my material in the first one of the year (although I could have in 2014 since I only made one entry, but I digress). 


Did you notice I said a week from today there "should" be a For Sale sign in my yard? Word choice is everything. There should be a For Sale sign in my yard because that was my plan, that was my hope.  Instead, in my front yard right now is there:

The city of Dallas, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that now, after I've spent the past 20 years mustering up the courage to make the move I've always dreamed of and after 8 years of living on this street, that NOW would be the perfect time to rework the drainage system or sewer lines or whatever involves massive cement structures, huge pipes and huge trucks that dig up things.  My street is in chaos, and it only appears to be getting worse before it gets better.


While I haven't met with my Realtor yet, I can only imagine the word "wait" will come out of his mouth.  And, I get it.  It seems to be the right thing to do. They always say that when selling a house, curb appeal is huge and when you have no curb, that becomes a bit more challenging.


But, I hate it. I'm angry. I want out. I want a new chapter. I need to meet and see new people. I need to meet and see a new me. And, in my head, those things were a month and a half away.  End of February, and my whole life was getting a reboot.


Instead, with this construction, who knows when that will happen. Construction is notoriously slow -- Rome wasn't built in a day, after all. It usually manageable... except when it's right outside of the house that you want more nothing more than to leave. It feels as though I'm being punished, as if I'm grounded. "And where do you think you're going, Chad?  New York City? Oh (chuckle). Not so fast, young man...."


Or worse, I'm seeing a dark room with a cigar haze hovering above a poker table.  The players are all older men (white, of course, it's Texas) with cowboy hats.  Some have mustaches, some full beards, all large, expensive cowboy hats. The sound of chips being tossed on to the pile in the center of the table is the only noise that interrupts the following exchange between these thick Southern, deep gravely voices:

"What are we gonna do about this Peterson situation?"


"What's that little queer up to now?"

"He wants out."


"Thought he did that back in 2003."


"No. Out. Like out of Dallas."

"Out of Dallas? Where does he think he's going?"

"New York City."


[All] "New York City??"


"Don't they got enough queers up there?"


"Apparently there's room for one more."


"Well, not this one. We gotta keep him here. Besides, what makes him think that he can go and live there and experience new things and meet new people and learn about himself all while living in a city that brings him energy and ideas and creativity and life? Peterson's a born and bred Texan. He a'stayin' here."


"How we gonna do that? He's got plans in place. He's spent a shit load of money fixing up that house of his. He's giving most of his possessions away. Chad is on the fast track outta town."


"Not if that track is broken."

"What choo talkin' about, Willis?"

"Road work, fellas.  We suddenly have to do a lot of road work to that ole Channel Drive.  That boy ain't gonna go nowhere."


[All evil cowboys laugh with evil, smoking-damaged laughs and cheers shot glasses before shooting Jack Daniel Honey Whiskey (I'm going for a product placement deal).]


OK, it probably didn't happen even close to that. Being the martyr and victim comes naturally to me. But, not this time. I won't let it. It did get me down today, in a big way. It feels like a huge set back and is extremely discouraging. My plans have been interrupted. But they aren't stopped. I'll move to Plan B... The B stands for Barriers. 


I've overcome so much to make this decision. Financial concerns, naysayers, excuses, my comfort zone, insecurities, fears... I've found my way around them all to get me on this path. I'm not going to let a concrete barrier stop me. I can't lift it. I can't stop it. I can't speed it up. But, I can be sure it doesn't stop me.


I'm moving to New York as soon as I can, and this obstacle in my way may slow me down, but it will not stop me. It may not happen as soon as I like, but few things in my life have.  Everything has happened later than I wanted it to, so this shouldn't be any different.

And, I know I can say, "Everything happens for a reason." Someday, I may be sitting on the porch of my summer house in the Hamptons with my gorgeous, successful, loving, caring, kind, generous, sensitive husband drinking cocktails with our friends, and think, "Wow, I would have never met him if I had moved in February." while the screen fades to "And They Lived Happily Ever After."


But, instead, right now, I'm sitting on my couch having just finished a bottle of wine, and I'm giving the city of Dallas the bird.